


if the moon's a balloon

by oddishly



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-23
Updated: 2010-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/pseuds/oddishly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Brendon is an unconventional Christmas tree fairy and Jon is altogether too interfering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if the moon's a balloon

As Christmas tree fairies went, Brendon knew he was pretty unconventional. He didn't have wings, for one thing, and for another he'd never felt particularly inclined to force himself into a crusty pink dress at Christmas. Skinny black pants and a variety of handmade t-shirts did the job just fine. It didn't matter, though; his human didn't seem to mind.

Brendon kicked his heels against the branch of the tree. Ryan was pacing from kitchen to the lounge and back again, the phone tucked under his ear while he scrawled something in a notebook.

'Milk in the fridge, lasagne in the freezer, phone numbers next to the desk,' Ryan repeated back into the receiver, and stuck his pen behind his ear. 'Spence, you're only gone a week, I'll be – '

He stopped. 'What's another word for 'advocate'?' Ryan stared at the notebook, eyes narrowed.

'Promote,' said Brendon, 'defend. Support.'

Ryan's eyes lit up. 'Countenance!' He grabbed a stick of carrot from the coffee table and attempted to scribble the word down, then realised what he was doing and shook the pen out of his hair. 'Sorry, Spence, I – what? Yes, I will only light the fire when I am staying at home.' He rolled his eyes, ambling into the kitchen then back out again with a mug of milky coffee in his free hand. Brendon waved a hand at it as Ryan passed and steam started spiralling up from the surface again.

'Yes, I – Spence. Spence. Spencer? It's fine. I'll be fine. Go see your family and say hello to them from me and give them an extra hug and tell them I'll see them at Easter and I'll see you after Christmas.' Ryan wandered back into the kitchen, the door clicking shut behind him.

Brendon grinned and waggled his fingers; the fairy lights disappeared with a pop, and Brendon picked a sturdy-looking leaf off the tree to sling over the now-empty wire and slide down on. This was the best part about being the Christmas tree fairy: skidding through the leaves and dodging tinsel in dizzy circles until he could jump off into the soil in the pot at the bottom.

Brendon got to his feet, beaming, then yelped and ducked behind a loose string of tinsel as Ryan appeared back in the room, scribbling in the notebook again. Ryan hummed distractedly as he walked past the Christmas tree, reaching into the tree and lifting Brendon back up to the top again with an absent-minded smile.

There was maybe one thing that was better about being the Christmas tree fairy than riding down the lights. There was nothing wrong with having a hopeless crush on someone who thought you weren't real, Brendon was sure. It made sure things stayed interesting. And if he occasionally wished he could spend some time with Ryan for real, have a real conversation with him and hang out and watch movies, no one had to know. It was all right, it was normal.

Very normal.

Brendon was dealing with it. Really.

*

The _worst_ part about being the Christmas tree fairy was the nights. Standing around at the top of a tree wasn't so bad during the day with Ryan pottering around the apartment; standing around at the top of a tree in the dark until Brendon fell into a doze got boring very, very quickly. Brendon yawned and scuffed at the foot of the tree.

Then he looked up. Something was thudding its way down the wall, a series of yelps and bangs emanating into the room.

Brendon took a step towards the fireplace. 'Hello? Is anyone there?'

Something clattered high in the chimney and Brendon thought he could make out something that sounded like bells before –

'WATCH OUT!'

Brendon leapt back from the hearth just as someone came screeching down the chimney, shooting out of the open fire in a cloud of ash and coal dust. Brendon gaped as the person shot across the floor, spinning to a halt only when the Christmas tree provided a barrier to his onward journey.

The person groaned. 'Need to work on my landing.' He grabbed onto the lowest branch of the tree and pulled himself up to lean against the trunk. He ran a hand gingerly through his hair and made a face. '_Really_ need to work on my landing.'

Brendon swallowed and took half a step forwards. 'Are you okay?'

The person – Brendon was pretty sure he was a fairy; he'd never met anyone his size before who wasn't – clambered to his feet, grinning ruefully. 'I'll live.' He was smaller than Brendon, with dark hair that coiled in finger-curls around his ears and a bright red t-shirt that had _Santa Says Relax_ in curly white writing across the front. On his feet was a pair of tatty black flipflops, each one decorated with a set of tiny bells tied to the straps with ribbon. They jangled cheerfully as the fairy ambled across the room towards Brendon, stopping with an easy smile just in front of him. 'Hello.'

Brendon blinked. 'Uh. Hello.' Then, 'I like your bells.'

The fairy looked pleased. 'Thanks, dude. Nice place!' He made a show of glancing around the apartment, his gaze trailing along the fairy lights blinking around the window frame and the snow globe on the mantelpiece, finally latching onto Brendon's tree in the corner. He nodded approvingly. 'Yeah, I like it.'

'Um. Thanks?'

'No problem.' The fairy stared at the tree a moment longer, then turned his attention back to Brendon. He grinned, disarmingly warm, and stuck out his hand to Brendon. 'Jonathon Jacob Walker, Spirit of Christmas, at your service. But call me Jon.'

Brendon's mouth dropped open. 'Spirit of – _you're_ the Spirit of Christmas?'

'Sure thing.' Jon raised his eyebrows, his hand falling back to his side. 'Not what you were expecting?'

'Uh – no. I always thought you'd be a bit more – ' Brendon drew an approximation of curves in the air between them, then when Jon raised his eyebrows higher, finished with, 'female.'

Jon smiled. 'I took over last year. The boss got tired of the girls dolling themselves up for the elves and then running off with them. Bad for business. Though, hmm –' Jon looked guilty for a moment – 'I'm thinking of running for Spirit of Halloween next year. The red hurts your eyes after a while, you know how it goes.' He glanced at Brendon, who did his best to look understanding and nodded. 'Halloween's more my thing than Christmas, anyway, though no one believes me when I tell them that.'

Jon looked thoughtful for a moment, staring at the star that Brendon normally shared a branch with. Then he shook his head and clapped his hands, turning back to Brendon with a businesslike look on his face.

'So, about this wish of yours.'

Brendon coughed. 'Wish?'

'Mmm.' Jon hummed his assent. 'You wished to be human?'

'I – well, yes, but –' Brendon stuttered out a reply. 'I wasn't really – wishing. I just. Sort of wanted.'

'Changed your mind?'

'No, I just – can you do that?'

'Yup.' Jon made a face. 'Well, for a while. I can get you started.'

'Get me – how?'

'I'll give you until Christmas Eve,' Jon explained. 'You'll have the week between now and then to live as a human. After that, you'll go back to being a fairy.'

Brendon swallowed, heart hammering in his chest. 'How do I get to stay human?'

'A kiss,' Jon said simply. 'One true kiss between now and Christmas Day.'

'One true – true love's kiss?' Brendon very deliberately didn't think of Ryan, fast asleep in the next room.

'After a week?' Jon shook his head. 'No, but it has to be honest. You both have to mean it, which means you can't tell her why you want the kiss.'

Brendon crossed his fingers behind his back. 'What if – um, what if it's a him?'

Jon smiled. 'Works just as well. Though if you mean, can you tell Ryan, then the answer is still no.'

'How did you – right, magic. Never mind. Um.' Brendon took a breath and broke Jon's gaze to stare at the floor for a second.

He looked back up. 'Is this – is this for real?'

Jon shrugged and snapped his fingers. For half a second, Brendon reeled as he gazed out across the room from what a voice in the back of his head told him was human height, human eyes fixed on the tiny Christmas tree on the coffee table, a huge, shocked face staring at him from the reflection high in the glass of the door, before something tapped his ankle and he was fairy-sized again. 'Okay,' said Brendon, and grabbed at Jon's elbow for support. 'Pretty real, got it.'

'I'll let you have until the first stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve,' Jon continued. 'After that, you're on your own.'

'What happens if I tell Ryan – I mean, what happens if I tell anyone about being a fairy?'

'You'll turn back. There's only so much I can do.'

Brendon hummed. 'So I'm like – um. Cinderella. Only without the dress. Or the pumpkin.'

Jon beamed. 'Exactly. Huh. Does that make me the fairy godmother?' He stared at the ceiling for a moment then back at Brendon. 'Maybe I should try to find a tutu to wear next time I'm granting wishes. What do you think?'

'I think ...' Brendon floundered for a second before finding an answer. 'Probably wouldn't match your flipflops. I'd save it for Halloween.'

'Good point,' Jon said seriously. He nodded. 'So. When you wake up tomorrow, you'll be human for a week. Find yourself a kiss and you'll be human forever. I'll be around if you need me.' He grinned at Brendon. 'Try not to break anything.'

Brendon swallowed. 'I'll – um, okay.'

'Have fun,' Jon said, and with a wink and a snap of his fingers, whisked back up the chimney.

*

The first thing Brendon saw when he woke up the following morning was Ryan's face hovering half an inch above his own. Brendon shouted in surprised and scrambled backwards, stopping only when he hit his head on something bumpy and hard behind him. He stared at Ryan, panting.

'Hello,' said Ryan, very politely. 'What are you doing under my Christmas tree?'

'I'm – ' Brendon fought very hard not to ask if Ryan would prefer him wrapped – 'I'm. Um.' He opened and shut his mouth a couple of times, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't get him turned back into a fairy straight away. Being so close to Ryan wasn't making things any easier.

Ryan observed him gravely. 'You look like a goldfish. Are you trying to?'

'I – no.' Then, because Brendon couldn't not, 'Ryan.'

Ryan raised his eyebrows. 'Yes,' he agreed. 'Who are you?'

Brendon was finding his position on the floor a little hard to deal with. 'Can I maybe. Stand up?'

Ryan looked surprised. 'Of course,' he said, and stepped back enough to let Brendon climb to his feet. 'I thought maybe you preferred being horizontal.'

'No,' replied Brendon, and grabbed at Ryan's arm. Jon hadn't mentioned the spindleyness that came with being human. 'Okay. Okay. That's – better.'

'I agree,' said Ryan, apparently unfazed by Brendon's death-grip on his arm. 'You get a much nicer view up here.'

Brendon swallowed and made himself swap his grip from Ryan's elbow to the windowsill. 'Spencer sent me,' he blurted.

'Spencer?'

'Yeah. We know each other from work. He said – something about coffee beans.' Brendon fixed a mystified look on his face, hoping that this wasn't about to backfire on him. 'Uh, he knew I wasn't doing anything for the holiday, and he said that you weren't either, and could I please make sure you don't turn into a coffee bean, because he wouldn't be around to make sure of it himself. And, um. Gave me a key so that I could. Sleep on your couch overnight.'

Ryan fixed his gaze on Brendon. 'From work?'

Brendon nodded furiously. 'From, uh, human resources.'

'Human resources.' Ryan's eyebrows rose higher. He quirked his head to the side. 'Oh – are you Max?'

'Max!' Brendon seized the name with relief. 'Max, yeah, that's me. Max.'

Ryan's face cleared and he beamed at Brendon. 'Hello, Max,' he said, 'I'm Ryan.' He tilted his head to the other side, looking interested. 'That's funny. I always thought you'd be ...' he didn't finish the sentence, but fluttered his hands around in the air somewhere just above Brendon's head.

'Taller?'

Ryan shook his head. 'Hairier.'

'Oh, I've just -- haircut.'

'Uh huh.' Ryan smiled at Brendon, then turned around and drifted back through the door. Brendon stood in a haze of nerves and indecision, wondering if he should follow Ryan through to the kitchen, or if the best thing was maybe to hide somewhere behind his Christmas tree until Jon came back to rescue him.

The hatch between the kitchen and the lounge slammed open and Brendon leapt backwards with a shout, flailing his arms to try and stay upright. Ryan stuck his head through gap, smiling vaguely and waving a huge jar of coffee at him. 'Do you want some? I know Spencer thinks I drink too much, but what Spencer doesn't know can't hurt him.'

Brendon squinted across the room at the coffee jar. It was labelled ONE CUP AN HOUR on one side, and I MEAN IT ROSS on the other in neat print. Brendon wondered if Ryan had even noticed the labels. 'Yes, please,' he said, sparing a quick prayer that he liked the taste as much as the smell. Ryan beamed at him and pulled the door to the hatch closed again as he instructed Brendon to follow him into the kitchen.

Brendon sagged against the back of the door, eyes fluttering closed. If this was the way the whole week was going to go –

Someone sniggered in his ear and Brendon jumped again. 'Who's there?'

'Only me,' replied the tree in Jon's voice, and after a moment of staring, Brendon rolled his eyes. 'Okay, whatever,' he said. He headed for the door, determined to ignore both Jon and the tree, when a thought struck him. He spun around again, grabbing the doorframe for balance. 'You're not about to turn me back, are you?' he asked anxiously. 'Did I break the rules?'

The tree laughed. 'You're doing fine. Go drink your coffee.'

Brendon sighed in relief as he manoeuvred his way out of the door. This was going to be harder than expected.

*

Brendon stared around the kitchen in dismay. The results of half an hour attempting to use the coffeemaker were strewn across the countertops and under the sink, and in one case, wrapped in paper in the trash.

Brendon took a deep breath and placed his hands on the counter. 'All right,' he told the coffeemaker, 'you might have beaten me this time, but don't think it's going to stay that way. By Christmas Eve I'm going to have _you_ bending and scraping and picking up broken cups for me.' He grabbed a stray cup and jabbed it at the coffeemaker. 'Then we'll see who's boss.' He waved the cup around, glaring threateningly at the coffeemaker. In the attempt to make his point – his _entirely valid_ point – he knocked his arm into the cup tree on the side. In horrifying slow motion, Brendon watched as the tree rocked on its legs, looked like it was going to recover, then tripped over the edge of the counter. The cups detached themselves from the tree, somersaulting through the air towards the ground as Brendon flung his hands out –

The cups froze in midair, half an inch from the floor. And, okay, that was pretty helpful. Brendon sent a silent _thank you_ to Jon and gulped a breath, placing his one safe cup on the counter. He bent down to scoop the others up.

'Max?' The door clicked open and Ryan's voice floated through it. Brendon felt his eyes go huge and swooped to the ground, rolling underneath the floating cups and pulling them in to his chest. 'Are you –'

Ryan stopped, blinking at Brendon where he lay on the floor. Brendon did his best to smile up at him, heart pounding in his ears. If Ryan saw ...

'What are you doing?'

Brendon swallowed. 'Watching the ceiling,' he said, gesturing upwards as well as he could with an armful of crockery. 'It's – colourful.' Which was true, he thought, it was very colourful. Sort of – 'Montage-y.'

Ryan's eyes lit up. 'Can I join in?'

Brendon nodded and shifted along the floor to make space for Ryan to lie down beside him. 'It's like we're star-gazing,' he said, grinning, 'only with paint instead of burning balls of gas, millions of years away.'

Ryan considered this as they looked up at the splodges of colour across the white-grey ceiling. His body was pressed all along Brendon's, little fingers just brushing. Brendon swallowed and shut his eyes briefly.

'There's a daisy,' Ryan said after a moment, pointing with one hand. He tilted his head onto Brendon's shoulder. 'Or maybe it's a reindeer.'

Brendon squinted. 'Daisy,' he decided. 'Definitely a daisy.'

*

Brendon paused outside the door to Ryan's room. Ryan had spent an hour of the morning explaining in meticulous detail how to make coffee, but faced with the prospect of another near-miss and a hasty return to fairydom, Brendon had decided to eschew the coffeemaker and try something different.

Brendon pushed the door open, trying to stick his nose through the gap without either spilling the contents of the cup or diverting Ryan's attention from any prospective works of genius in the developing. Brendon had witnessed enough sleepless nights from the top of the tree without wanting to hinder Ryan's progress further. 'Ryan?'

The door swung open and Brendon stumbled forwards into the room. Ryan was standing wild-eyed in front of him, his hair sticking out at right-angles to his head and what looked like several bottles of black ink soaking into his shirt sleeves. He grabbed at Brendon's sweater and opened his mouth to speak, then caught sight of the cup in Brendon's other hand. 'Thank you,' he said sincerely, staring into Brendon's eyes, and took a gulp. 'No, _thank you_. It's all going --' He stopped and eyed the contents of the cup. 'They do raspberry-flavoured coffee now?'

Brendon blinked. 'No,' he said, 'it's herbal tea. Less caffeine, it's better for you.' He'd found the teabags in a tub situated right next to the coffee with the unlikely label CAFFEINE POISONING EXISTS. Judging by the dust, the little tub hadn't been touched in a very long time. 'Do you want me to make something different? Just – I thought you might want a change.'

Ryan continued peering into the cup, but his lips twitched. 'Spencer might actually have a point, worrying that I'm going to turn into a coffee bean. This is good.' He quirked a smile at Brendon. 'Thank you.'

Brendon turned around, hesitated, then turned back again. 'Do you want to do something? Not if you're in the middle of creating of a masterpiece or – something, but, you know. We could. Do something.' He fluttered his hands around in the air between them.

Ryan put his cup down. 'We could do something,' he said carefully. 'Something is good.'

'You – yeah?'

'The masterpiece is regressing quite nicely without needing any help from me,' Ryan shrugged with a rueful look at the desk. He reached up to rub his eyes, smearing a long line of ink along his cheekbones as he did so. 'Maybe if I run away and hide for a bit, it'll get bored of throwing a tantrum at me.'

Brendon had a sudden, vivid image of Ryan standing opposite a giant manuscript with his arms folded and a stubborn expression. The manuscript rolled itself into a long, thin scroll and jumped through the air to start thwacking Ryan around his head and shoulders, paying no heed to Ryan's shouting and flailing arms. As soon as Ryan reached into his pocket and sparked a lighter, the scroll shot to the ceiling, then sank into a corner, hunched into a distinctively sulky form. Ryan sighed.

Brendon blinked. 'Okay,' he said, shaking his head slightly. 'Is there anything –'

Ryan frowned. 'I don't really – wait.' He rubbed his eyes again, smudging more ink across his face. Brendon bit his lip. 'You're right, we need to do something. Why didn't I think of this? Spencer won't let me go anymore and now you're here which is _brilliant_ because now we can totally go.' He stared at Brendon, looking utterly delighted with himself. 'How are you on skates?'

*

This was going to be _awesome_.

Brendon wasn't sure who of them was more entranced. 'You sure about this?' he murmured, staring out over the ice.

'Absolutely sure.'

'Even though neither of us is very good at staying upright even on dry land?'

Ryan beamed. 'Even though.'

'Okay then,' Brendon nodded. He glanced sideways at Ryan and smiled. 'Let's do this thing.'

They made their way over to the lanky boy behind the counter at the edge of the ice, passing him their shoes and getting two sets of vivid purple skates in return.

Ryan clutched at Brendon's arm as he stood up in his pair, grinning delightedly. 'Let's go, let's go, c'mon.'

Brendon rolled his eyes and hobbled with Ryan to the ice, pulling his hat down close over his ears as they went. 'Don't, like – break a leg or anything. I don't fancy carrying you home.'

Ryan smiled at him. 'Right back at you. You're stronger than I am, anyway.' He placed one foot gingerly down on the ice, fingers clenched in Brendon's, then the other, and transferred his hand to the barrier. He grinned back at Brendon. 'Hey, I'm good at this!'

'Mmm, you're practically ready for Swan Lake,' said Brendon as he followed Ryan down.

'No, just watch,' insisted Ryan, 'soon we'll be _wiping the floor_ with these guys.' He flourished a hand in the air at the other skaters, then windmilled his arms frantically and grabbed at Brendon's hand in an attempt to stay upright.

Brendon raised an eyebrow. 'Yeah,' he said, 'maybe.' He had a strong suspicion they'd be wiping the floor with themselves, actually, but couldn't quite find it in himself to say so to Ryan.

Ryan set off enthusiastically, dragging Brendon behind him with one hand and clutching at the barrier with the other. 'See? Brilliant.' He hummed the first couple of bars _Swan Lake_, beaming at Brendon.

'Watch out for the –'

With a yelp, Ryan swerved around a wailing child sat on the ice, her brother resolutely ignoring her in favour of sliding backwards on his skates. 'Okay,' he directed at Brendon's raised eyebrows, 'spatial awareness isn't exactly my strong point, but –'

'Ryan!' Brendon groaned as Ryan's skates crossed and he stumbled to his knees. 'Smooth.'

'Huh.' Ryan looked disgruntled. 'That wasn't supposed to happen.' He took the hand that Brendon stretched down to him, pulling himself to his feet and twisting to face the right direction. 'See, this is fun. This is fun, isn't it.' Ryan gripped Brendon's hand. 'I'm having a good time, aren't you?'

Brendon sent Ryan an amused look. 'You need to be concentrating harder, Ryan, I don't think you're paying enough attention to where we're going.'

A pair of teenagers whooshed past them, sending snow spraying into up into their faces. Ryan frowned at Brendon, their fingers still wrapped together. 'Are you laughing at me?'

'No,' Brendon shook his head vigorously. 'This is supporting you.' He gave his best attempt at looking sincerely back at Ryan, eyes wide and unblinking.

Ryan squinted sideways at Brendon, but before he could reply, his expression morphed into one of panicked unbalance. He flailed his arms backwards and Brendon lunged to catch him before he fell, wrapping his arm tight around Ryan's waist from behind him. He grinned at Ryan, feeling his pulse race under Brendon's grip around his wrist. 'See? Supporting you.'

Ryan rolled his eyes. 'My hero.' Brendon smiled back at him, forcing himself to extricate his arm from around Ryan.

'Ready for another go?'

Ryan made a face but grasped Brendon's hand again, inching forwards gracelessly. 'If I do break my leg, you're carrying me home.'

'Done,' said Brendon sunnily.

*

Twenty minutes later, Ryan was climbing to his feet for the fourth time. 'How come you're so good at it, anyway?' he grumbled at Brendon.

'Dunno. Something about the way you shift your centre of gravity, I think. Which,' Brendon ran a considering eye down Ryan's frame, 'might be something of a problem for you.'

Ryan stared at Brendon. 'But I don't _have_ a centre of gravity.'

'No,' Brendon agreed, 'you're right.You don't actually weigh anything, like a twig. You're just a waif that _pretends_ to have body mass.'

Ryan's eyes were huge and dark as he watched Brendon analyse him. 'I'm a waif,' he said mournfully, and tightened his grip in Brendon's hand. 'A waif on skates.'

'Yup,' said Brendon, and tugged Ryan forwards another couple of inches. 'Oh – sorry, Ryan ...'

*

Really, Brendon thought, he should have expected it to happen sooner. He'd been blithely living on Ryan's couch for four days now and Spencer still hadn't called to check up on Ryan's state of being; the phone going off as they entered Ryan's apartment after ice-skating should have clued him in on the impending disaster.

'Spence!' beamed Ryan when he picked up the call. 'Merry Christmas!' He smiled up at the ceiling as Spencer replied, nodding and hmming in response. 'Yeah, we've just –'

He stopped and frowned at the ceiling. 'How long have I had a candelabra in here?'

Judging by Ryan's expression, the tinny noises reaching Brendon's ears from the phone translated into verbal eye-rolling and affectionate sarcasm at Spencer's end of the line. Brendon turned away miserably, wondering if Jon would give him a chance to say goodbye to Ryan once Brendon had stuttered his way through an explanation of his origins, or if he would just magic Brendon back on top of the tree in a puff of sparkly smoke. What had he even been _thinking_, Brendon thought; out of all the friends Ryan had over – well, didn't really have over, but whatever – Brendon had to go and choose the one who was guaranteed to call.

'... with Max,' said Ryan from his bedroom. Brendon's heart sank to somewhere in the vicinity of his toes. 'Hang on, I'm putting you on –'

'Max?' came Spencer's voice over the speaker. 'You mean from –'

'Yeah,' Ryan interrupted. 'We're looking after each other.' He caught sight of Brendon hovering in the lounge and waved him forward enthusiastically.

'Really?' Spencer sounded confused. 'Have you got anything for him to eat? Where does he sleep?'

'Of course, and on the couch. We went ice-skating today.'

'_Ice-skating?_'

'Yeah. He was kind of better at it than me, though.' Ryan smiled at Brendon, who returned it weakly and leaned against the doorframe.

'I'm pretty sure a spider would be better at ice-skating than you, Ryan,' said the receiver, 'a spider with three and a half legs and a migraine would be better at ice-skating than you.'

Ryan rolled his eyes. 'That's rubbish. A spider already has the practice it needs at co-ordinating all its legs,' he replied, then, 'did you put all that herbal tea in my kitchen?'

Brendon groaned and peeled himself away from the door, heading back towards the kitchen. He didn't deserve this special form of punishment, being forced to listen to his own downfall, he was sure.

Ryan made beckoning gestures at him and held the phone out. 'Do you want to talk to Spencer?'

Brendon did his best to convey a sincere lack of desire to talk to Spencer without actually vocalising it, waving his hands in front of him and shaking his head violently, then pasting a regretful expression on his face and holding up the milk they'd picked up on the way home. Ryan shrugged and told Spencer, 'Guess not. I'll tell him you said hello, though.'

'You do that,' came Spencer's voice, the rest of what he said cutting off as Brendon let the door snick shut behind him.

Brendon walked into the kitchen, dumping the milk in the (mostly empty) fridge and unloading the rest of their bags into the various gaps he could find for their contents to fit into. Oh well, he thought gloomily as he hefted a sack of potatoes behind the microwave, it wasn't as if he'd been getting anywhere with a kiss, anyway.

He'd finished putting the food away and had moved onto distracting himself with cleaning the surfaces by the time Ryan emerged from his room. Brendon sent a queasy smile his way, dropping the dirty dishcloth into the sink and running a hand through his hair. This was it, he was only moments away from spending the rest of his life on top of a plastic Christmas tree, Brendon could just tell.

Ryan smiled at him. 'Spencer says hi. He's having a good time back home, but it's too hot for Christmas.'

Brendon coughed. Any time now ... 'In Vegas?'

'Mmm. Something about it not being snowy enough. Not that it really snows much here, but Spencer's a bit of a Christmas fiend, did you know? Anything over, like, minus twenty just doesn't cut it. Give it a couple of years and he'll be calling me from Moscow.' Ryan fixed Brendon with a stern look. 'You're not allowed to go with him.'

Brendon nodded, throat dry, and Ryan looked satisfied. 'Spencer also said not to feed you all the chocolate he's given me. Whatever that means. Only real food.'

'Probably a good thing,' said Brendon. Any time Ryan wanted to catch up with demanding an explanation would be fine with him. Then he could get on with getting used to a lonely existence on top of the tree again. Maybe he'd be able to talk Jon into dropping in and saying hello occasionally.

Ryan smiled up at the candelabra. 'We should light the candles on Christmas Eve,' he said, 'now I know they're there. And what Spencer doesn't know can't hurt him, remember? Neither of us is any good at cooking, chocolate's the _only_ thing we'll be eating on Christmas.'

'Ryan,' Brendon blurted, 'aren't you going to – say anything?'

Ryan blinked. 'About what?'

'Didn't Spencer tell you?'

Ryan looked down at the receiver as if it might start talking to him again. 'No,' he said, 'or, wait, do you mean about the candelabra?'

'No,' replied Brendon, 'I mean –' He stopped without meaning to, fixing his gaze on Ryan. 'He really didn't say anything?'

Ryan stared at Brendon with wide eyes. Brendon thought he could see something hidden in his expression and narrowed his eyes, but the next minute, Ryan was shaking his head. 'Nope,' he said, and smiled hopefully at Brendon. 'You could instead?'

'Oh no,' said Brendon. 'Don't want to – spoil it.' He let out all his breath and grinned at Ryan.

Ryan pouted and opened his mouth again, but before he could start complaining, his gaze fell on a pile of boxes Brendon had heaped up behind the door. His eyes lit up. 'Is that Scrabble?'

*

It turned out that what Ryan lacked in ice-skating, he made up for in board games. They made it through Scrabble, Mastermind and three games of Cluedo, Ryan winning every game, before Brendon convinced him that he'd probably had enough eggnog for one evening.

'But, Max –'

'No buts,' said Brendon firmly. 'It's, like –' he checked the clock on the oven timer and his stomach turned over; the week before Christmas Day was almost over – 'gone two, seriously. You can stop winning now.'

Brendon slung Ryan's arm over his shoulder and began to drag him towards the bedroom. Ryan was chatting away to him happily, the words slurring into each other in time with his stumbling feet.

'Dude, Ryan, did you get heavier in the last four hours, or what?'

'No,' Ryan said cheerfully in the middle of a monologue about polar bears. He narrowly avoiding stepping on his glasses where they lay on the bedroom floor, stumbling into the corner of the bed instead. 'You're jus' titchy. Is all.' He beamed at Brendon, delighted with the word. 'Titchy, titchy, titchy.'

'Yeah, that's me,' said Brendon. He heaved Ryan up onto the mattress and dragged the covers over him without trying to get him into pyjamas. 'Go to sleep, Ryan.'

Ryan grabbed his wrist as he went to leave. 'Where're you going?'

'To bed,' Brendon told him. He tried to pull his hand out of Ryan's grip but Ryan just tightened his fingers.

'Stay,' he said, 'jus' for a – ' Ryan cut himself with a yawn, then looked surprised at himself for doing so. 'Jus' for a while.'

Brendon hesitated and Ryan tugged at his wrist. 'C'mon, Max,' he mumbled. He slipped his fingers into Brendon's and knotted them together. Brendon swallowed against the lump that had appeared in his throat and let Ryan pull him down onto the bed next to him, squashing into Ryan to stop himself falling off the edge of the bed.

Ryan hummed contentedly. 'Thank you,' he murmured, wriggling down the bed until he had his head cushioned on Brendon's stomach. His thumb was tracing lines up and down Brendon's fingers, light as a kiss.

'Your head is going to hate you in the morning.'

'Good thing I've got you to look after me, then.'

Brendon smiled and lifted his free hand to card his fingers through Ryan's hair, directing little drops of magic out of his fingertips. Maybe if he magicked Ryan's head now, he thought drowsily, Ryan wouldn't feel too bad in the morning.

There was a fizzling sound and a moment later, Ryan's hair was glowing alternately red and gold and blue, casting a faint light over his face. Brendon coughed, startled, and stopped magicking. Two heart-stopping minutes after that, Ryan's hair blinked back to normal. Brendon made a face.

'Max?'

'Hmm?'

Ryan's voice was so quiet that Brendon had to strain to hear him speak. 'I wish you'd tell me.'

'Tell you what?'

Ryan was silent for so long that Brendon decided he must have fallen asleep. When he went to slip his fingers out of Ryan's hair, Ryan made a soft noise in the back of his throat.

'Tell you what?'

'Who you really are.'

Brendon's mouth dropped open. 'I – what do you mean?'

Ryan's fingers were loose in Brendon's. 'You know,' he murmured. 'Take a chance.'

By the time Brendon had remembered how to answer, Ryan was fast asleep and snoring lightly. Brendon swallowed and untwisted their fingers, then rolled off the bed and out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He paused beside the Christmas tree. 'Don't say anything.'

'Wouldn't dream of it,' replied the tree. Brendon turned away.

*

Brendon spent the following morning in a haze of torture before the door to the bedroom opened and Ryan appeared. He staggered across the hall into the bathroom and slammed the door, and ten seconds later, Brendon heard the shower start. He stared at the bathroom door for one long moment, then dropped the book he was holding on baking technique and dashed across the room to the Christmas tree. 'Jon,' he said urgently. 'Jon, wake up.'

The tree stayed silent.

'Jon!' said Brendon again, 'wake up! I need you to turn me back!' He grabbed the tree with both hands and shook it, a little bit harder than he'd meant to until it rocked backwards and into the wall.

The tree bristled and stretched, driving suspiciously sharp spikes into Brendon's arms. He leapt back with a yell, then peered around fearfully at the bathroom door.

When he looked back, the tree had gone. In its place stood Jon, three inches tall and with his hands on his hips. 'This better be good,' he informed Brendon.

Brendon swallowed. 'I need you to turn me back!' he whispered. 'Ryan knows, you need to turn me back!'

'He can't know. You'd already be a fairy again if he did.'

'Well – not that part, he doesn't know that' – Brendon cast another look over his shoulder at the bathroom door – 'but he knows I'm not who I said I was, he's going to find out!'

Jon raised his eyebrows. 'He knows you're not who you say you are,' he repeated slowly. 'What's that got to do with anything?'

Brendon dropped to his knees. He gave Jon a pleading look. 'Everything! It's got everything to do with it. If he finds out I lied –'

'This isn't Aladdin,' Jon told Brendon. 'Ryan doesn't wear harem pants and a crop top.' He paused, staring at the ceiling. 'It's something you might want to consider.' He waggled his toes in his flipflops.

'But –'

'I'm not going to keep granting you wishes until you get a hold of the boy,' said Jon, 'and you're not a street rat. You're a fairy. And,' he gave Brendon a stern look, 'fairies don't give up that easily. _I'm_ not letting you give up that easily.'

'Jon – '

Jon shook his head. 'Nuh-uh,' he said. 'Two days left, Brendon. I gave you a week and you're going to use it. Watch out, the shower's turned off.'

Brendon scrambled to his feet and turned around, the multi-coloured glow around his feet informing him that the Christmas tree was back.

Ryan walked out of the bathroom wrapped in an enormous purple bath towel. He smiled when he saw Brendon. 'Good morning,' he said, then frowned. 'Or – is it afternoon now?'

'Still morning, just.' Brendon crossed his fingers behind his back. 'Was there anything you wanted to do today? Christmas Eve-Eve, we should. We should do something.'

His heart sank as Ryan gave him a dubious look. 'Or – we don't have to,' Brendon said, 'if you wanted to – '

'I don't want to go ice-skating again,' said Ryan quickly. 'I already look like someone went at my legs with a baseball bat.'

Brendon tried not to fall on his neck in relief. 'Okay,' he said with a straight face. 'There are other things we could do, though.'

'Nothing on skates.'

Brendon looked at Ryan. 'No,' he said, 'no skates. I think we can probably find something less dangerous than that. We could avoid skates altogether.'

Ryan's face cleared. 'That would be good.' His eyes lit up. 'We could make cookies!'

Brendon blinked. 'Less dangerous, I said.'

Ryan grinned at him. 'I'm totally good at making cookies. They're the only thing I haven't managed to set the kitchen on fire with yet.'

'First time for everything,' said Brendon, 'personally, I think sitting perfectly still on the couch and watching the world go by sounds much more exciting. We could contemplate the year and make New Year's Resolutions.'

Ryan raised his eyebrows. 'Yes,' he said, 'or, we could make cookies.'

'Paper chains?'

'Christmas tree-shaped cookie cutters.'

'Miracle on 34th Street!'

'Skittles,' said Ryan, waggling his eyebrows. Brendon paused, hesitating, and Ryan smiled. 'Icing sugar,' he said, walking slowly backwards. 'Sprinkles.'

Brendon threw his hands up. 'All right, you win.'

'Not me,' said Ryan, and crinkled his eyes at Brendon, 'the sprinkles did.'

'Well, yeah,' replied Brendon, and tried not to think of all the ways they could make this go wrong between them.

Ryan disappeared into his room and Brendon turned around. 'This is life or death,' he informed the Christmas tree. 'The responsible thing would be to –'

'Nice try,' said the tree, 'but you've still got two days to go.'

Brendon made a face and started walking towards the kitchen.

'I like red Skittles best,' called the tree after him.

'Noted,' replied Brendon sourly, making a mental note to eat them all before Ryan noticed. Jon laughed.

*

'That,' said Brendon an hour or so later, 'was surprisingly painless. And, you know' – he gestured around the kitchen – 'no explosions. That's a bonus, right?'

Ryan laughed and blew a handful of icing sugar at Brendon, who spluttered and batted his hands at Ryan. 'Thanks for that.'

Ryan inclined his head, smiling. 'Don't be rude, then.'

'I think the word you're looking for is 'realistic', actually.'

'You set one microwave on fire ...'

'Two microwaves. And a Christmas tree.'

Ryan rolled his eyes. 'Minor detail,' he said dismissively, and grinned at Brendon. Then he blinked, and looked back up at the ceiling. 'Mistletoe,' he said in a surprised voice. 'How did that get there?'

Brendon resisted the urge to walk into the lounge and growl at Jon. He shrugged. 'Dunno. Probably a small and irritating Christmas fairy who likes interfering.'

'Mmm.' Ryan nodded seriously. 'Probably.' He looked back at Brendon and smiled, then stretched his hand out to smudge his fingers under Brendon's eye. 'Icing sugar,' he explained, and drew his hand back. He hesitated, then licked his fingers, one after the other. He kept his eyes fixed on Brendon's.

Brendon took a breath.

Ryan stepped an inch closer. He lifted his other hand to Brendon's face. 'And again.' He didn't take his fingers away, trailing them instead along Brendon's jaw.

The light through the window was weak and cool. It was about to snow, Brendon thought. He let his eyes flutter closed and felt Ryan trace his hand back up his face, slipping a lock of hair behind his ear.

Stupid Jon, Brendon thought wistfully.

He opened his eyes and looked straight at Ryan. 'My name's not Max,' he said. 'It's Brendon.'

Ryan blinked at him. Then he took his hand away, dropping it back to his side. 'Oh,' he said quietly.

Brendon looked at the floor. 'I'm really sorry,' he said, 'I – I wanted to tell you, I really – I wanted to tell you. But I can't.' He stared at his feet.

There was a pause. Then Ryan cleared his throat. 'I know,' he said. 'Max is a dog.'

Brendon lifted his head. Ryan was regarding him calmly.

'Right,' said Brendon. He nodded slowly. 'That's – right.' He made a bit of a gesture and took a step backwards. 'I –' He didn't finish his sentence, but swallowed and took another step towards the door.

Ryan watched him walk away, making no move to stop him. 'I guess I'll go,' Brendon said softly, and turned around. That was that, then.

'Where are you going?'

Brendon stopped with one hand on the door handle. 'Away. Somewhere.'

'Why?'

Brendon's throat was burning. 'You don't have to pretend you want me to –'

He stopped. Playing right in front of his eyes, Ryan was looking straight at Brendon and telling him that he'd always thought he'd be hairier.

Brendon turned around. 'You knew?'

Ryan frowned. 'I'm not just a pretty face, you know,' he said, and Brendon let out a bark of surprised laughter. 'Did you know Spencer's self-employed? The only person he knows in human resources is himself.'

'Oh. That – would explain it, yeah.'

'I didn't know your name was Brendon, though,' Ryan added. 'I thought you were more of a Henry.'

'_Henry?_'

'Mmm.' Ryan gestured at Brendon. 'Something about your elbows. Anyway,' he said, 'burglars don't normally fall asleep under my Christmas tree, and I like having someone around here. I'm not very good at remembering to eat.'

'I know,' said Brendon, then bit his lip.

Ryan smiled at him. 'I figured you'd tell me who you were if you wanted me to know,' he said. 'I wasn't going to throw you out or anything. I like you, you're my friend.' He blinked. 'Er – unless you want to go, that is, in which case –'

'No,' said Brendon without even thinking about it. 'I want to stay here. With, with you.'

Ryan beamed. 'Good,' he said happily, 'because I think the cookies are done.'

*

Christmas Eve, Brendon decided, would have been vastly improved if it had involved a considerable amount more drinking and a considerable amount less thinking about _seventeen hours left, nine and a half hours left, one more hour of daylight_. They spent the day stringing up tinsel and paper chains and fairy lights around Ryan's apartment and positioning tea lights in the candelabra, and really, Brendon thought as he teetered on the edge of a foot stool with a box of matches, it would help if he'd managed to decide what exactly he wanted, anyway. He glared down at the goldfish he'd brought back from a Christmas market a couple of days ago – 'I'm calling it Max,' said Ryan with a grin, and Brendon threw a pillow at his head – and told it silently to make the most of an uncomplicated life.

They were lying sprawled against each other on the couch and watching old Julie Andrews movies when Ryan jolted away from Brendon's shoulder. 'I forgot something.'

Brendon pulled himself upright. 'Yeah?'

'Wait here.' Ryan slipped the comforter off to get down from the couch, and darted across the room into his room. Brendon stretched wide and got up to poke at the tiny fire they'd managed to get going in the grate, teasing it into a brighter flame.

'Brendon?'

Brendon turned around. Ryan was smiling at him from the doorway. 'I found these.' He hesitated then brought out two enormous stockings from behind his back; one red, the other royal blue. 'I found them a couple of days ago,' he said. He turned them over to reveal two reindeer embroidered onto the red stocking and a Christmas tree on the other. 'I thought we should probably have stockings to hang up on Christmas Eve.'

Brendon stared at him. Ryan was wearing a strange, nervous expression, the sort of look that Brendon hadn't really seen on his face since Jon turned up and made Brendon human. It was doing weird things to Brendon's insides. 'I – yeah,' he said, once he was sure he could give his voice some semblance of control. 'I didn't think of getting stockings.' He had, but all things considered, Brendon had decided it was a little too much like tempting fate.

He took the blue stocking from Ryan's hands and hung it carefully on one side of the fireplace, letting Ryan hang his own on the other side. They stood back together and surveyed the stockings, warm and cheery against Ryan's lilac wallpaper.

Ryan turned to face Brendon with a questioning look on his face, but before saying anything, his eye seemed to catch on something just beyond Brendon's head. 'Brendon,' he said excitedly, 'it's snowing again!'

Brendon stared at him for a moment then whirled to face the window. The snow that had been coming in fits and bursts all day was now falling thick and heavy, piling up on the windowsill outside. They stared at it together, wide eyes shining back at them from the window.

Then Brendon's eye fell on the reflection of the clock in the glass and felt his stomach turn over. Twenty-five minutes to midnight.

He turned back. 'Ryan,' he said on impulse, 'let's make snow angels.'

Ryan looked taken aback. 'What, now?'

'Yes! Why not?'

'Is it even snowing enough to make them?'

'It's snowing enough to try,' said Brendon, 'c'mon, Ryan, when do we ever get a white Christmas?'

Ryan stared at him. Then he grinned. 'Snow angels,' he said.

Brendon grabbed a couple of coats off the floor. 'While it's still snowing.' He grabbed Ryan's hand, blood buzzing, and dragged him out of the door and down the three flights of stairs to get outside. The street was deserted, the snow clean and unbroken. Brendon stopped and beamed out at it, enjoying the weirdness of the sky and the light reflecting off the white. He turned to look at Ryan.

Ryan had his head quirked to the side. 'Snow and dirty rain,' he murmured, 'light brought in in buckets.'

Brendon let his eyes ghost over Ryan's features; the tiny crease between his eyebrows and the way his cheeks were flushing with the cold, and wondered how exactly he'd intended to spend the rest of his life watching Ryan and the world spin by without him.

He coughed. 'Yes,' he said, and winked at Ryan. 'Catch me if you can!' He jumped forwards and stuffed two handfuls of snow down Ryan's shirt, then set off running down the street and around the corner, grabbing onto lampposts and railings as he passed in an attempt to keep himself from slipping.

Ryan shouted and set off after him. 'I'll get you for that!'

'You can try!' Brendon skidded as he rounded a corner, flailed his arms wildly and just about managed to stay upright, then clambered over a gate and into a sheltered little park. He craned his neck around just in time to catch Ryan jack-knife himself over the gate, misjudging the distance so that he landed upside down in a heap of snow piled up against the wall.

Brendon was laughing too hard to carry on running. When Ryan scrambled to his feet and hurled himself into Brendon, he didn't try to resist, just let himself tumble to the ground with Ryan on top of him. He yelled in shock as they hit the grass, the snow already a couple of inches deep.

'Shouldn't have attacked me like that, then, should you,' panted Ryan, the effect somewhat spoiled by his bright eyes and brilliant smile, 'you only end up regretting it.'

'Regretting it?' Brendon shook his head, mock-serious. 'You have much to learn, young Padawan.' He wriggled his hands out from under their bodies and slipped them under Ryan's coat, forcing his shirt up to press them against Ryan's hips, and Ryan gasped and tried to squirm out of Brendon's hold. Brendon grinned and held him tighter, pressing his head up into the crook of Ryan's neck until Ryan huffed a laugh and stopped trying to get away. They grinned at each other, snow still coming down around them and landing cold on Brendon's face. He licked his lips, tasting the snow, and watched Ryan's eyes flicker down.

Brendon was aware of every inch of Ryan's skin under his fingers, and without letting himself think about it too closely, smoothed his hands carefully along his back.

A moment passed.

'Snow angels,' said Ryan. His eyes creased. 'Snow angels, Brendon, it'll be Christmas in a minute.' He drew his hands up and tickled Brendon's neck until Brendon whipped his hands out of Ryan's shirt, giggling, then clambered to his feet. He held a hand out to Brendon and pulled him up.

Ryan dragged them both to a fresh patch of snow a couple of feet away. 'You first.'

Brendon rolled his eyes. 'No,' he said, 'together.' Keeping a hold of Ryan's hand, he folded himself into the snow, letting go – reluctantly – to scissor his arms and legs together vigorously. Next to him, he felt Ryan doing the same thing, and lifted his head a little to look down at him, blinking against the snow. Ryan had his eyes closed, an easy smile on his lips.

Carefully so as not to disturb him, Brendon eased his way upright. He stood watching as Ryan flapped his arms in the snow, and didn't try to brush away the sweet, fragile hurt in his chest.

The clock struck midnight.

Brendon turned in horror to stare at the church nearby. In the same moment, Jon appeared, dark and human-sized, leaning against a tree a couple of feet away. Brendon sent a desperate look at Ryan – his eyes were still closed – then leapt across to Jon. 'Please,' he begged in a whisper, '_please_ –'

Jon shook his head. 'Four,' he said quietly, 'five. Sorry, kid.'

Brendon spared a brief, endless moment to screw his eyes shut -- Ryan smiling with bright eyes, Ryan asleep on Brendon's stomach, Ryan rubbing ink into his nose – and thought, helpless, _I can't lose this, I can't lose you._

Then he turned back. 'Ryan,' he said – eight – 'Ryan –'

Ryan opened his eyes.

Brendon swallowed. 'I gotta go,' he said. 'I – goodbye'. In spite of it all, he smiled, and lifted his hand in a wave.

Ryan frowned and shook his head, brief and sharp. 'Brendon?'

But Brendon was already gone.

*

The thing was. Brendon hadn't really given any thought to how it would feel being ripped back out of Ryan's life with only a moment's warning.

It kind of sucked.

He swayed where he stood on top of the tree, looking out into the empty room. The embers were still glowing in the fire. Brendon ran his eyes over their stockings hanging up at either side, wondering sadly if Ryan would take down Brendon's now that he wasn't around anymore.

Brendon made a face at himself. Ryan probably had more pressing things than Christmas stockings on his mind right now.

The door slammed open and Brendon jumped. He slipped off his branch, tumbling through the leaves until he managed to flail purchase on a forked branch halfway down the tree.

Brendon got to his feet, panting, and peered through the tinsel into the room. Ryan was tearing through the apartment and calling Brendon's name, the door into the hall still gaping wide. Brendon dug his nails into his palms.

'Brendon? Brendon, are you – BRENDON!' Ryan tumbled back into the lounge. His hair was still damp and matted to his head, snow clinging to his coat. He was wearing a bright, unhappy expression, the glow of the fairy lights around the window giving a green-gold sheen to his skin. He stared around the room, his gaze ending up somewhere around the Christmas tree. 'Brendon?'

Brendon grit his teeth. If he couldn't talk to Ryan the conventional way, he'd just have to do it a bit differently. He snapped his fingers, focusing on the light at the very end of the wire.

The light blinked.

'Brendon?'

Screwing up his face in concentration, Brendon moved up the string of fairy lights one bulb at a time, switching them on then off again, twice per light. When he remembered to look out into the room again, Ryan was staring at the tree with a peculiar look on his face.

Brendon redoubled his efforts, snapping his fingers until they were sore. Ryan took a step towards the tree, then another one, and stopped in the middle of the room with his head quirked. 'Come on, Ryan,' Brendon muttered, 'I'm here, it's me, come _on_ \--'

The bright look in Ryan's eyes dimmed. He turned away, shoulders hunched, and padded towards the bedroom. Brendon stopped magicking the lights and sprang forwards on the branch, waving an arm around frantically. 'No – Ryan! RYAN! COME BACK!'

The door shut with a click.

Brendon dropped his arms, sighing. He nodded at the door to the hall, directing it to swing closed, and slumped back against the tree.

'That's not going to work,' said a voice in his ear. Brendon yelped and whipped his head around. 'But full marks for effort.'

Jon was leaning against the other side of the tree trunk, legs dangling off the branch. He inclined his head at Brendon. 'I'm impressed.'

Brendon swung himself around so that he was leaning against the tree trunk with his knees up, feet braced on the branch.

'It's the same magic that means humans don't notice when we talk to them, or in front of them. Or when we disappear from the tops of trees for a week, or when they walk into a room and the entire contents of their crockery cabinets are hovering an inch off the ground.'

'That – okay, that was an accident. And Ryan didn't notice, I – did a ninja-roll thing and caught them before he could see.'

'Yeah.' Jon sounded like he was smiling. 'It was a good ninja-roll. But mainly he didn't see because he wasn't allowed to. That's just one of the rules.'

Brendon thought about this for a second. He made a face. 'You couldn't have told me that before I started freaking out about him seeing me magic something?'

'You didn't do that much,' Jon pointed out. 'Why bother? It was amusing me.'

Brendon rolled his eyes. 'And,' he said, looking at his hands, 'I guess – another one of the rules is that I don't get one more chance. As – as a human.'

There was a pause. Then, 'Yeah,' said Jon gently. 'That's a pretty big one.'

Brendon shut his eyes and thought about Ryan licking icing sugar off his fingertips. 'Okay,' he whispered.

Brendon and Jon sat in the middle of the Christmas tree and listened to the snow falling, falling through the night. Neither said a word.

*

Someone started leaning on the doorbell at half past ten the following morning.

Somewhere around eleven o'clock, Ryan stumbled out of the bedroom. He didn't look towards the couch – the sheets neatly folded – or to where Brendon was perched on the top of the Christmas tree, but walked straight through the room and pulled the door open. He turned back on his heel in the same moment.

'Morning, sunshine,' came an amused voice through the door. 'Merry Christmas.'

'Merry Christmas,' Ryan mumbled in response as he passed Brendon. Then he stopped, blinking. 'I mean – ' He turned back again. 'Spencer!'

Spencer dropped two huge bags on the floor by the door just in time for Ryan to dash forwards and throw his arms around him. 'Hey, hey,' said Spencer, the words muffled in Ryan's shoulder. 'I missed you too, dumbass.'

Ryan mumbled something unintelligible into Spencer's hair.

Spencer drew back, frowning. 'What? I'm not going anywhere, I only just got here.'

Brendon could see Ryan's knuckles going white on Spencer's elbow. He shut his eyes, trying not to think.

'All right,' said Spencer, 'um. Let's – let's go back to mine and get breakfast. Okay?'

Brendon opened his eyes in time to see Ryan nod, casting an absent-minded look around the room. He stooped to the pick up a coat up from the pile on the floor, then peered at it and dropped it as if it had bitten him. He yanked another coat out of the pile and shrugged it on over his – Brendon squinted – Doctor Who pyjamas, avoiding Spencer's eyes. 'Brendon ... ' he said, waving a vague hand at the couch.

Spencer raised his eyebrows. 'Brendon?'

'Yeah. He – left.'

'But who was he?'

Ryan frowned at Spencer. 'I told you about him. Ice-skating? You told me not to give him all the chocolate?'

'I told you not to feed _Max_ too much chocolate.'

'What?' Ryan narrowed his eyes at Spencer. 'Max is the goldfish.' He waved a hand between Spencer and the goldfish bowl in the corner. 'Max, Spencer – Spencer, Max. Don't give him sunflower seeds, I think he's allergic.'

'Noted,' said Spencer, looking bemused. He shook his head slightly. 'So ... who's Brendon?'

'I told you, he slept on my couch,' answered Ryan. He cocked his head to the side. 'Actually – I might have told you his name was Max. Forget I said that, his name's Brendon.'

'But – he's gone now?'

Ryan nodded without looking at him.

Spencer took a noisy breath. 'Well, then,' he said, 'it's a good thing I came back early, then.'

Ryan smiled at him. Brendon caught the sad edge lining his mouth and looked away, just for a second.

'So –'

Ryan interrupted Spencer. 'Wait, what, Christmas Day. Aren't you still in Vegas today?'

'Oh, absolutely. I'm just a hologram endowed with all of Spencer's good looks, charm and unparalleled intellect.' Spencer quirked an eyebrow. 'Spencer Smith remains in Vegas with his family. He is in fact directing this hologram from his bed. Disengaging in five – four –'

Ryan blinked. 'I forget,' he said, 'is this the game where –'

'No, Ryan,' sighed Spencer, and pulled Ryan elbow-first out of the door.

*

For a guy with two sets of bells around his ankles, Brendon thought grumpily, Jon didn't make nearly enough noise upon entering the apartment.

Brendon clambered to his feet. 'Not that it's not great to see you,' he told Jon, 'but could you give me a bit more warning next time? It's sort of embarrassing, the number of times I've fallen off my own tree.' He toed at his pants, wincing at the dust now adorning his knees.

'Sorry,' said Jon from the floor. He did, indeed, sound semi-contrite. 'I don't think anyone else saw you, if that's any consolation.'

Brendon hopped out of the pot and waved at Jon. 'Hey.'

'Hey.' Jon glanced around the room. 'Where is everyone?'

'At breakfast with Spencer,' Brendon said, waving a hand towards Spencer's bags by the door.

'At half past eight in the evening?'

'Lots to catch up on, apparently.'

Jon gave the bags a dark look. 'He's clearly a bad influence. Doesn't he know it's Christmas?'

Brendon rolled his eyes, smiling. 'You'll have to put him right.'

'Obviously.' Jon harrumphed. He looked sideways at Brendon. 'Busy day?'

Brendon stared at him. 'Yes,' he said blankly, 'my social life is blistering.'

Jon looked surprised. 'Really?'

'No, you're the only person I've seen all day.'

'Oh. Huh. Well, _I_ like you,' replied Jon, and tipped an invisible hat at Brendon. 'Besides, I want to meet this Spencer in person, when he decides to do the decent thing and bring Ryan back.' He sent another frown at Spencer's bags.

'You want to meet Spencer?' asked Brendon dubiously. 'Why?'

'Why do people normally want to meet other people? I think we could be – friends. Think of yourself as my personal calling card, if it helps.'

'It doesn't,' said Brendon. 'Is Spencer even gay?'

Jon gave him a look. 'When you told Ryan that Spencer knew you well enough to entrust him to you,' he said, 'did you actually know _anything_ about him?'

Brendon made a face. 'I was a bit distracted when I said that – you know, what with the waking up six feet taller, and all. Which – anyway,' he said firmly, 'the point is that Spencer's straight.'

'We'll see how straight he is when I'm' – Brendon cleared his throat loudly and Jon smirked – 'wooing him over dinner tomorrow night, won't we.'

Brendon shook his head. 'Whatever,' he said. 'But interested or not, I don't think he goes for anyone more suitable for his shoulder than his date, how are you going to –'

Jon shrugged exaggeratedly. 'Damn, I forgot about that,' he said, and waggled his toes in his flipflops. 'If only I knew magic.'

Brendon coughed. 'Good point.'

Jon smiled at him and opened his mouth to continue, but before he could say anything, Brendon's mouth fell open and he beckoned Jon up into the pot again. 'They're back,' he hissed, and the door clicked open.

Brendon peeped out between the leaves, not missing the fleeting, hopeful light that flashed in Ryan's eyes as he walked in. It fell off his face as he looked around, replaced with something tired and a little sad.

'Dinner,' said Spencer firmly, propelling Ryan towards the kitchen.

Jon turned back to Brendon, a triumphant expression on his face. 'See?'

Brendon gaped at him. 'One word, Jon. He said one word.'

'You have no imagination.' Jon shook his head. 'Do I need to write a list of things for you to include when you introduce us?'

'You still haven't explained how that's going to happen,' Brendon pointed out. 'Even if you're big, I'm stuck as a fairy, remember? All the rules you were talking about yesterday?'

Jon stared at him. Then he smiled.

The kitchen door opened and Ryan appeared. He walked straight for the goldfish bowl in the corner, the tub of fish food in his hand. 'Merry Christmas, Max,' he said to the goldfish, crouching so he was at eye level with the bowl. He watched Max investigate the inside of an urchin shell for a moment, then scattered a handful of food across the surface of the water. 'I know,' he said, and stood up again. 'I wish he'd come back, too.'

As far as Brendon could tell, Max was more than satisfied with the bit of seaweed and dried vegetables to keep himself entertained. He began to point it out to Jon before realising that Jon wasn't listening to a word, instead staring after Ryan with a mildly frustrated expression. 'What?' asked Brendon.

Jon looked at him. 'Guess I won't get to break any rules after all,' he said quietly. 'You know the drill' – Jon glanced at the clock then back at Brendon – 'nearly midnight, B.' He smiled, warm and sort of affectionate. 'G'luck, kiddo.'

Brendon felt his eyes go huge. Jon clapped his hands.

Before Brendon had time to hope, before he even had time to blink, he was tumbling out of the air and onto the floor, upside down and staring at his tree.

His very, very small Christmas tree.

The talking in the kitchen stopped abruptly and Brendon pulled himself upright – Jon groaned from his other side and muttered, 'That wasn't supposed to happen.'

The door banged open again and Ryan bounded into the room with something huge and bright on his face, Spencer trailing at his heels. Brendon climbed to his feet, his stomach turning in somersaults.

'Brendon,' breathed Ryan. His cheeks were very flushed. 'You came back.'

Brendon clenched his fingers then unclenched them again, swallowed and said, 'Yeah, I – I did.' His heart was jumping in his throat, and he was pretty sure his hands were shaking. He cleared his throat. 'I did come back.'

Spencer was frowning between them. '_This_ is Brendon?'

Ryan nodded, just barely. He didn't take his eyes away. 'This is Brendon.'

Spencer looked a little bemused. Well, Brendon thought he did. He was a bit too busy smiling at Ryan to really pay attention to anyone else right now.

'Then,' said Spencer, 'who're you?'

Jon got to his feet to stand beside Brendon. 'I make wishes come true,' he said, and winked at Spencer. 'By trade.'

Brendon couldn't help himself; he sent a glance sideways. Spencer was blinking at Jon, eyebrows raised.

'Uh huh,' he said. 'Do you actually know Ryan?' He cast a glance at Ryan, his expression changing from confused to resigned in a moment. He looked back at Jon. 'Or – Brendon?'

'I do,' nodded Jon. 'Me and Brendon go a long way back. Me and you, on the other hand ...' He took a step forwards; Spencer's eyebrows shot up into his hair and he darted behind Ryan.

Jon plucked at Brendon's sleeve, then harder. 'Oh, for – ' He strode out in front of Brendon, eyes gleaming.

Brendon shook his head a little. 'Oh – right. Um. Jonathon Jacob Walker, Spencer Smith. Spencer, Jon.'

Spencer's eyes got wider. 'And we should talk about how you know my name, too,' he said without looking at Brendon, 'at some point that I'm not being – Ryan, help, come on!'

Ryan shot a distracted look at him. 'Phonebook's in the fridge,' he said, 'help yourself.' Spencer groaned and let go of his arm.

Jon took another step forwards, extending his hand to Spencer.

Spencer eyed it warily. He stuck his own hand out from behind Ryan. 'Nice to meet you,' he said gruffly, then looked terrified when Jon pulled him forwards, bending low over his hand. He placed a lingering kiss on the back.

Then Jon looked up. 'The pleasure is all mine,' he purred. Spencer swallowed audibly, apparently forgetting to pull his hand away until Jon smirked and let him go.

Brendon couldn't keep his eyes off Ryan. He ran his eyes down Ryan's body then up again, smiling.

Ryan pulled his arm out of Spencer's grasp and stepped forwards. 'I knew you'd come back.'

'Liar,' said Brendon. He let his smile catch on Ryan's and stepped forwards. 'You thought I melted.'

'It's really cold!'

'That doesn't even make sense,' said Brendon, and Ryan grinned at him. Another step. 'Didn't you go to high school?'

Jon coughed pointedly. Brendon sent an exasperated look his way. 'There is mistletoe right above you,' Jon stage-whispered to him, then frowned. 'Wait –' He made a gesture behind his back. 'There is mistletoe right above you,' he repeated, 'and you have approximately an hour left until midnight. I tell you this only as a matter of interest.' He sauntered past them both, snagging a hold of Spencer's shirt and dragging him away until Spencer shook himself free and bolted into the kitchen.

Jon turned around at the door, grinning and lifting a hand to Ryan. 'I'm Jon,' he said, 'nice to meet you.' He slammed the door behind him.

Ryan shook his head a little. 'Jon,' he said, turning back from the kitchen door with a perturbed expression. 'Do I know him? Does Spencer?'

'Spencer's about to,' replied Brendon, and took another step. 'It's okay, Jon'll leave him in one piece. Mostly.'

Ryan blinked. 'Oh, good,' he said. His smile stretched to somewhere around his ears. 'You came back.'

'I came back. It's Christmas. You're supposed to get nice things at Christmas. It's like a rule.'

Brendon could feel Ryan's breath on his cheek when he laughed. He nudged Ryan's arms and jerked his head at the ceiling. 'Mistletoe.'

Ryan raised his eyebrows. 'It didn't work very well for us before,' he said, and, dropping his hands to Brendon's waist, guided him a couple of steps sideways. He left his hands where they were. 'Do I have to wait approximately an hour to kiss you?'

Brendon let his eyes flutter closed, just for a moment. 'I hope not,' he said, 'Spencer might get a bit scared if he's left in the kitchen with Jon for that long. We might need to mount a rescue mission ...'

'Can I – '

Brendon laughed, quick and light, and leaned up to press his mouth to Ryan's. His skin was prickling under Ryan's hands, his lips, and when Ryan sighed into the kiss and pulled him closer, Brendon couldn't help but smile. They stood still and close in the middle of the room, Brendon's hands tangled in Ryan's hair and Ryan's legs between Brendon's, kissing messy and sweet and so, so warm. The hurt Brendon had been carrying around in his chest melted into something that spread hot and sweet through his body, and for that moment, it didn't matter if he could keep on kissing Ryan forever or if it would only last as long as his breath.

There was a yell from the kitchen, followed immediately by something that sounded like glass smashing on the floor. Brendon and Ryan broke apart, blinking at each other in surprise. Brendon felt his eyes go wide: Ryan's hair was fizzing in blues and gold again. Ryan raised his eyebrows and Brendon smiled at him.

Ryan quirked his head. He pulled Brendon close, hooking his hands into Brendon's waistband. 'How do you do that?'

'How do I do what?'

'Make me feel like that.' Ryan bit his lip and looked away from Brendon, then back. He crinkled his eyes. 'Like Christmas,' he said, 'or magic. Are you magic?'

Brendon raised his eyebrows. Ryan's eyes were twinkling.

He twined a lock of Ryan's hair around his finger. 'Must be,' he said, and grinned.

 

*


End file.
